


Reports Of My Smallishness Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Bickering, Established Relationship, Fluff, Height Differences, Idiots in Love, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: But while he was happy- no, not happy, um, content, no... resigned to? Yes, let's go with that. While he was resigned to the business of Chapman voicing his thoughts willy-nilly, a line had to be drawn in the sand somewhere."Excuse me," said Rudyard, squinting. "What did you just call me?"Chapman blinked, seemingly befuddled by the perfectly sensible question. "...Tall?"And that line, Rudyard decided, was right before cruel jokes.In which Rudyard is taller than he thinks he is, and Eric isfantasticat rubbing his back and making him blush.





	Reports Of My Smallishness Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

**Author's Note:**

> So guess who just tripped headfirst into the Wooden Overcoats fandom and can't get up. I blame Anna entirely.
> 
> Now, I know Rudyard's been referred to as 'small' in canon MANY times, but before any of that I built up an image of him as a gangly daddy long legs and honestly I kind of prefer it. But just because he's a tol, doesn't mean he can't ALSO be a smol- you can fly under everyone's radar is your posture's bad enough! My absolute favourite way to think of Eric and Rudyard is they have two different height differences- the physical (Rudyard>Eric) and the equal but opposite spiritual (Eric>Rudyard). Big spoon and little spoon energy. Confident struts and defeated slouches. You get the idea- I'll probably dabble in writing/drawing Certified Smol Rudyard at some point too, but I love this headcanon and it ain't going away that easily! (Also this was supposed to be a tiny drabble and then they just wouldn't stop bickering and being cute so uhhh enjoy I guess?)
> 
> So, first attempt at these guys, be kind, and _enjoy yourselves!_
> 
> Note: Do not try this kind of DIY chiropractic therapy at home.

Rudyard had, it must be said, become rather... _accustomed_ to Chapman’s senseless prattling. Not to get too soppy about it, but he might even go so far as to say it was a thing he'd come to expect and not actively discourage.  
  
God, love had truly made a sentimental fool of him.  
  
But while he was happy- no, not happy, um, content, no... resigned to? Yes, let's go with that. While he was _resigned_ _to_ the business of Chapman voicing his thoughts willy-nilly, a line had to be drawn in the sand somewhere.  
  
"Excuse me," said Rudyard, squinting. "What did you just call me?"  
  
Chapman blinked, seemingly befuddled by the perfectly sensible question. "...Tall?"  
  
And that line, Rudyard decided, was right before cruel jokes.  
  
"Charming," he snarled, standing up from Chapman’s sofa (a mighty feat, given it was so soft and pillowy it all but swallowed him whole) in preparation to slink out. "Rather tasteless dig, don't you think? Even _I_ don't pick on the things you can't help- you don't hear me giving you hassle over your... your-" _damn_ _it_ , he was too perfect, couldn't think of a specific flaw- "... _face_."  
  
"I- I wasn't _making_ a dig," Chapman defended, still with the gall to appear bemused. "I was just stating a fact."  
  
"That _I_ am taller than _you_?" Rudyard scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air.  
  
"Well, you are."  
  
" _Please_."  
  
Chapman, with a scrunch of his annoyingly handsome brow, stood up and looked down (yes, _down_ ) at Rudyard. "Hey," he said, taking a step closer and catching Rudyard’s hand in his own confidently. "You're taller than you think you are, you know."  
  
Rudyard glared up- yes, bloody _up_ \- at him through his lashes. "I have to say, Chapman, this is... _mean_. From you, that is. I'd expect this sort of cruelty from my sister but-"  
  
"I'm _serious_ ," Chapman laughed, twining his fingers with Rudyard’s. "You may have the worst posture of just about anyone I've ever met, but you're not short by any stretch of the imagination."  
  
"...I don't follow."  
  
"Oh, for- okay. I'll show you. May I?"  
  
Rudyard peered at him, deeply suspicious. But, he had to (grudgingly) admit that Chapman generally had his best interest at heart. It wouldn't hurt to humour him. He nodded cautiously, squeezing the warm hand in his own on reflex.  
  
"Okay," Chapman smiled, returning the nod _and_ the squeeze. "Stay still, and relax. "  
  
The last time Chapman said that to him, they were in a far more compromising postion. Rudyard blushed at the association, wondering what the devil he'd got himself in for- and whether it was something they were best off moving to a location _away_ from the window that overlooked Funn Funerals and the potential prying eyes of nosy sisters and employees.  
  
The hand Chapman placed on his abdomen didn't reassure him. Though the one on the back of his shoulders did, just a tad.  
  
"Okay, Rudyard," Chapman said, voice calm and level. "Try and stay relaxed, okay? Just trust me a minute."  
  
And wasn't that just the most absurdly laughable turn of events? That _Eric bloody Chapman_ was standing here, with his hands on Rudyard’s body, asking him to trust him.  
  
And that Rudyard already did.  
  
"Just get it over with," he snapped, face flushing. "Sooner I prove you wrong, the sooner I can have tea."  
  
Chapman rolled his eyes, in that obnoxiously _fond_ way he'd developed- obnoxious largely because Rudyard remained the sole recipient and he didn’t care for the condescension- and steadied his hands. "Alright then. Just go with it, nice and slowly. One, two, _three_..."  
  
Slowly and firmly, Chapman pushed both his hands in- one on Rudyard’s belly, the other behind his shoulders. Rudyard, confused, felt rather like a jumper being folded into a packed suitcase- he couldn't imagine what Chapman aimed to prove by compacting him into a travel-sized bundle.  
  
_Pop_.  
  
Rudyard startled, swivelling his head. "What was _that_!?"  
  
"Your spine, I think," Chapman grunted, still pushing. "God, how do you _live_ like this...?"  
  
A series of similar small cracks and pops followed, leading Rudyard to wonder if Chapman was attempting to mold his skeleton like marzipan. Which then led him to wonder if Chapman _had_ any marzipan. Probably; didn't he open a ludicrous patisserie here at some point? He'd have to go snooping when Chapman had got whatever _this_ was out of his system.  
  
"Almost- nearly- there! That ought to do it. Rudyard?"  
  
Rudyard blinked himself out of his peckish daydream and looked down at Chapman.  
  
...down?  
  
"What on-?"  
  
He shook his head, but Chapman’s remained stubbornly _below_ eye level. Several inches below, actually. Rudyard could see the top of his head- a sight he'd heretofore only been treated to when Chapman was on his knees. Which he definitely _wasn't_ right now, and he even double-checked just to be sure. Chapman was standing at full height, neck stretched, face upturned, and meeting Rudyard’s eyes with an indulgent smile.  
  
"There you are," he said, rubbing Rudyard’s shoulders. "Evening, handsome."  
  
Rudyard squinted down at him. "What... what did you do?"  
  
"Just straightened you out a bit- _god_ , you're tense," he tutted, squeezing the knotted muscles at the juncture to his neck, wringing an involuntary shudder out of him because of bloody _course_ Chapman could give a damn good massage. He didn't know what he expected.  
  
"What, no, you did- _oh_ ," Rudyard groaned, finding it difficult to argue with Chapman’s talented thumbs digging in, uprooting an ache he hadn't realised he'd been carrying. "No, you- _ah_ \- did _something_. Some smoke and mirrors trickery, no doubt, weren't you- _hhh_ \- a magician, once?"  
  
"Well, yes. But I hung up my top hat a long time ago."  
  
"Ha! So you expect me to believe I just... had an extra bloody _foot_ tucked away and didn't even realise?"  
  
"Pretty much, yeah," Chapman agreed cheerfully, walking round behind Rudyard to get those hypnotising fingers working on his back. "God, you must have been slouching since... what, your twenties? _Teens_? Bloody hell, it's a wonder you have any spine _left_."  
  
Rudyard hissed, Chapman’s fingers delving mercilessly into the knotted whorls of his muscles. He did feel... _different_. Something had been realigned, and not necessarily for the better; though there was something undeniably airy about his current position, there was also an ache in his bones. Like a formal but vocal complaint about an extension acquired without planning permission- he was most certainly shadowing someone's garden now with his extra height and they were only too eager to take it up with the council. He also felt much less structurally sound, teetering on the edge of utter annihilation like a bowling pin, and any moment now a well-meaning shove of Chapman’s warm, firm hands was going to send him rattling into the gutter.  
  
"Rudyard?" Chapman yielded a bit, switching to soothing circles of his palms. "You alright?"  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder, catching sight of Chapman’s face, open and concerned, as it looked up at him. Bloody _up_. "Yes," Rudyard squeaked, fidgeting in place with the ever growing need to _slump_.  
  
"Don't tell me you're afraid of heights," Chapman teased.  
  
" _No_ ," Rudyard bit out, wishing there was some part of the man within easy swatting distance. He made an attempt anyway, but found himself wobbling alarmingly.  
  
Chapman, eyes wide, caught him by the waist to still him. "Woah, steady on!"  
  
Rudyard blushed, whipping his head away and hoping Chapman couldn't see. "Yes, well. You've buggered up my centre of gravity. Not to mention _mutilated_ me with your infernal kneading- my back feels like it's been tenderised."  
  
"It's called good posture- you'll get used to it," Chapman assured him, and he could feel that blasted smile pressed into his shoulder. "You should give it a go more often. Suits you."  
  
Rudyard snorted.  
  
"It _does_!" Chapman pressed, hands giving Rudyard’s waist an admonishing squeeze. "I can see your face better."  
  
_And that's a_ good _thing?_ _  
_  
"Hey," said Chapman firmly. "Stop that."  
  
"I didn't say anything!"  
  
"You were _thinking_. Very loudly."  
  
Rudyard sniffed. "It's _my_ _brain_ and I'll think what I like."  
  
"Not unflattering thoughts about my boyfriend, you won't."  
  
Rudyard felt a little shiver run up his straining spine. Maybe it was because Chapman was pitching his voice rather _lower_ now and it was tingling on his neck. Maybe because the word still felt foreign and exciting to his ears. He doubted he'd ever get used to it.  
  
"Well... then I shall think disparaging things about your taste."  
  
"Don't you always?"  
  
"Yes, but evidently the message has yet to sink in, so I'll just have to think a bit _louder_ , won't I?"  
  
Chapman snorted, utterly unfazed by the pointed parroting, and pressed his face in between Rudyard’s shoulders. For which he did not have to bend down in the _slightest_. God, it was like the world had been shifted on its axis- what was he supposed to _do_ with all this extra height? Was it always going to hurt so much to maintain? Did he have any real _use_ of it-  
  
"A- _ha_!" He crowd, clapping his hands and making Chapman jolt. "I'm _finally_ taller than Antigone!"  
  
" _That's_ what you're taking from this?"  
  
"And after all that time she spent _faffing_ about in the womb, trying to scrounge up the last resources, _ha_ ," he pumped his fist- an entirely unfamiliar gesture that made his elbow crack worryingly and he immediately resolved to never do again- and cackled. "Victory is _mine_! I swore a blood oath that puberty would give me the upper hand and it _finally_ paid off!"  
  
"Technically it paid of _years_ ago, Rudyard- you just never thought to straighten your back out."  
  
" _Years_ \- ugh, _so_ much wasted bragging time. I have a lot of catching up to do," he chuckled maniacally, patting at Chapman’s hands. "Right, release me, Chapman, I have some _strutting_ to do..."  
  
"Maybe you should just take it- _easy_!"  
  
Rudyard, having been free from Chapman’s grounding arms for a whole two seconds, immediately began to capsize. He flailed desperately, feeling himself start to crumple inwards again, but strong hands grabbed his hips before he could teeter too far, a warm body pressed up to his back and steadying him.  
  
"Phew- that was a close one!" Chapman huffed, locking his arms round Rudyard’s torso like a seat belt. "Nearly lost you there."  
  
"Right... yes, perhaps, perhaps strutting can wait." Rudyard writhed a little, groaning- Chapman had his arms positioned to prevent any slouching. "Ugh, is good posture supposed to _ache_ this much?"  
  
"Only when you've not done it in a couple of decades. Don't worry, you'll ease it it- although we should probably book you in to see a chiropractor."  
  
"Surprised you're not one."  
  
"Well... technically, my certificate's only valid in-"  
  
"Chapman? Shut up."  
  
"Right-o."  
  
Rudyard sighed, letting his exhausted neck flop back, head coming to rest atop Chapman’s. Probably messing up his artfully styled hair. He got a certain perverse satisfaction in the knowledge. Getting the perfect Eric Chapman all ruffled and dishevelled was one of his favourite hobbies. If Chapman would just let him go, he could turn around and do it _far_ more effectively, and also give his complaining spine a rest- a win win, really. "Chapman," he muttered, swatting at his arms impatiently. "Enough's enough, now, unhand me- I can't feel my feet."  
  
"In a minute, don't worry- but we're best off trying to get you used to this. You don't want to be hunched over like an old crone all your life, do you?"  
  
"It's served me perfectly well so far."  
  
" _Has_ it?"  
  
Rudyard considered, wrinkling his nose. "Well. Granted, I do have some rather awful cramps-"  
  
"And a place in the Piffling Hall of Fame for 'Most Unpopular Man' seventeen years running."  
  
Rudyard sniffed. "No such thing as bad publicity."  
  
"I _know_ you can do better, Rudyard; let's work on this, eh? I'm not saying looks are everything, but..." he shrugged, tone thick with that irritating false modesty. "Well. I'd be lying if I said it didn't streamline things."  
  
Rudyard rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , Chapman, you're beautiful and successful, we all got the message. Some of us just have to muddle through with what he have."  
  
"But you're not _using_ what you have- you're hiding it behind scowls and hunches!"  
  
"But the last time I tried smiling you all said it was, oh, what was it, 'horrifying' and 'the stuff of nightmares'-"  
  
"Granted, granted. Still, showing off that handsome face a bit more couldn't hurt!"  
  
Rudyard ducked his head, cheeks burning. " _Chapman_ ," he hissed, squirming.  
  
" _Rudyard_ ," he returned,  nuzzling distractingly into his neck. "Let me pay you a compliment."  
  
He bit back the instinctual _you can't tell me what to do_ , with difficulty. Perhaps the trickiest part of dating Eric Chapman was trying _not_ to argue at every turn. Especially when it was warranted. "Very well," he sniffed, trying to wriggle a little less. "I suppose if you... If you _must_ spout nonsense I can humour you just this once."  
  
"That's, that's really big of you, Rudyard," Chapman muttered.  
  
"Yes, well, I can be charitable. On occasion."  
  
"Yeah, you can. You know you're a lot nicer than you give yourself credit for, right?"  
  
"Well-"  
  
"I'm serious, Rudyard," Chapman said softly, with an entirely disarming kiss to his shoulder. "Once you get to know someone... you're a pretty incredible friend."  
  
"Chapman," he protested weakly, blush intensifying.  
  
"You try. For your friends, and the things you care about, you try so hard. It's... it's actually _amazing_ to me, you know? No matter how often you fail, miserably and embarrassingly-"  
  
"Chapman."  
  
"-you _always_ get back up. I don't think I could do it, but you... you're a lot stronger than I am."  
  
Well, _now_ he was just lying through his teeth. "Come off it, Chapman."  
  
"I _mean it_." Chapman sighed, squeezing him tight and preempting any further escape attempts. "You're a stubborn idiot. It's one of your best qualities." The next kiss landed higher, at the juncture of Rudyard’s neck just above his jumper, and did _nothing_ for his already compromised structural integrity. "And you're easy on the eyes. Always a plus."  
  
" _Chapman-_ "  
  
"How about this- I'll let you go and stop complimenting you," Chapman said, a grin in his voice. "If you call me by my name."  
  
"I just did!"  
  
" _First_ name, Rudyard," Chapman laughed, squeezing him tighter. "Come on. I know you can. I've made you before."  
  
If any more blood rushed to Rudyard’s head he really _would_ topple over. "That's- that's _not_ a game we're playing, Chapman," he hissed, hoping and praying that Madeleine was still fast asleep in his jacket pocket because he did _not_ want his best friend hearing the insinuation. So far, he'd called Chapman by his first name exactly six and a half times, and most of those included much more desperation and much _less_ clothing.  
  
"It's not a game- I just like to hear it! Come on, Rudyard, don't you think we're a little _past_ this now? What, do you plan on calling me Chapman when we're _both_ called-"  
  
Rudyard could _hear_ the click of his jaw as he snapped it shut in haste. Even over the heavy drop of his own.  
  
"When we're both... _what_?" He said, voice coming out deathly calm.  
  
Chapman, for _once_ , was at a loss for words. "Ah. Um. Yes, well..."  
  
Rudyard couldn't quite hear his fumbling aborted sentences over the record scratch of his own mind as it came up short. Because for just a second there it seemed as if Chapman had been insinuating that they might one day be m- be _ma- god_ , he couldn't even make it through the word in his own head! That they might one day be... _more_ than they were now. And that it was a possibility Chapman had _considered_ , or at least casually entertained, and that he'd imagined how their names would work together, what they'd call one another when they were-  
  
"Why am I taking your name?" He didn't mean to say it, wasn't even sure how he managed it when it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, but it was clearly the most pressing question and he stood by it.  
  
"Oh." Chapman sounded about as surprised by the question as he was. "Well, I..."  
  
"Just _assumed_ I'd want it, did you?" Rudyard scoffed, wishing they were facing one another so he could give him a proper glare. "Oh, yes, because _everyone_ wants a piece of the Chapman magic; supposed it never occurred to you that I might be rather fond of my own name and not want to give it up to be your little housewife, _well_ , I hope you've learned an important lesson about making assumptions-!"  
  
"No, I just- thought with all the negative associations people have with the Funns round here you might... want a fresh start. Or something."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"...I shouldn't have said anyth-"  
  
"No, no, it's- quite alright." Rudyard cursed his own voice for coming out breathier than intended. "That's... rather thoughtful, actually. Blast."  
  
"...Sorry."  
  
Rudyard looked down at his feet- which seemed very, _very_ far away. Was it the height boost, or the near-out-of-body experience? Both, probably. He felt like he'd have to reach down through the floor itself to touch his toes.  
  
"It- it was a slip of the tongue," Chapman said, sounding awkward.  
  
Chapman, he hated to admit, was was a very _decent_ fellow from time to time. Like right now, he was giving Rudyard either a chance to drop the subject and return their conversation to more familiar waters, or maybe even push events like this to the wrong side of the _do not cross_ line in the sand and give him a stern talking to. He had a feeling he wouldn't try too hard to argue if he did. When all was said and done, the way he behaved around Rudyard when they were alone- from his impromptu chiropractic treatments to his flirtatious games of 'what's my name'- weren't to take Rudyard _out_ of his comfort zone, but to make that zone a little _bigger_. He'd learned to tell the difference, mostly, between Chapman the oblivious twit and Chapman the thoughtful boyfriend. And this particular instance... somehow was a blend of both.  
  
But... It didn't seem to be a joke.  
  
Then again, he wasn't always the most qualified to tell...  
  
"Chapman- is this one of those jokes that I don't understand but everyone else does?" He asked, hating that he _had_ to ask but really not wanting to settle on a course of action without the clarification.  
  
It fell silent a moment, even Chapman’s breaths suspended. But then, quiet but steady, his voice reached out again.  
  
"No, Rudyard. It wasn't a joke."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, you've, ah. Thought about...?"  
  
"Once or twice."  
  
"...Chapman?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can I sit down now?"  
  
"Oh! Oh, blimey, yes, yes, hang on-"  
  
Chapman, with the care with which one would handle an ornate vase or a very expensive mandolin, released his vice grip on Rudyard’s torso and kept his hands in place as support as Rudyard lowered himself, groaning in relief, back into a more familiar slouching position. It was a bittersweet sensation, muscles simultaneously relaxed and compressed, back aching anew, and the floor so noticeably close to hand compared to mere seconds previous. But he had enough on his mind right now without worrying about reshaping his spine. He stumbled, weak as as a baby deer, back to the all-consuming sofa and sank into it with an exhausted sigh, muscles singing in response to the touch of soft, squishy cushions.  
  
Chapman chose not to sit down with him, instead hovering awkwardly to the side like a butler. And while it was certainly tempting to snap his fingers and send him off in search of something sweet to nibble on, he felt that might convey the wrong sort of message.  
  
But he didn't really know what to _say_ , either...  
  
He eyed Chapman, considering, fingers tapping anxiously on the arm rest a moment as he weighed his options. He still wasn't entirely sure he even _believed_ that he'd heard... what he heard. Or that Chapman meant it. Or that it was anything more than a little joke or a ludicrous hypothetical. He felt to an extent that it must be. Probably wouldn't even be offended if he let it slide altogether.  
  
But... perhaps he didn't want to.  
  
Why were _feelings_ so _difficult_?!  
  
He stared Chapman down, feeling his own face heat under the gaze of those big blue eyes, and made up his mind.  
  
"...If anyone's taking _anyone's_ name, it'll be you taking mine."  
  
Chapman blinked, seemingly blindsided by the remark. And then, slowly, he smiled- that _irritating_ thing that made Rudyard’s stomach flip. "Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yes- I don't give up _that_ easily," Rudyard huffed, crossing his arms. "I'll not be surrendering the Funn name any time soon, you mark my words."  
  
"Sounds like a challenge," Chapman remarked, sinking down onto the sofa beside him.  
  
"Yes- and not one you'll win."  
  
"No?"  
  
"Absolutely not; this time, it shall be _I_ who has the last laugh!"  
  
Chapman raised one perfect eyebrow, lips twitching into a bemused smirk. "And _that_ sounds like a threat."  
  
"Oh, it's a _very_ real threat," he smiled, wide and possibly a bit vampiric, at Chapman’s smug face, and drawled nice and slowly so he could savour every delicious syllable: " _Mister Eric Funn_."  
  
Chapman, remarkably unruffled, leaned in and pressed a hand to Rudyard’s shoulder for support, almost as if he was lifting him up again, opening him out, helping him stand as tall as could be. He hovered over Rudyard, half-straddling his lap, other hand pushing his hair softly from his forehead and cupping his cheek.  
  
And then, right before he closed the final distance between their lips, he smirked.  
  
" _Made you say my name..._ "  
  
...  
  
_Drat_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked <333
> 
> Optional extra notes on character appearances: I kinda have two ideas in my head? Like, there's the one that's the most heavily hanging on the canon, so text, official art and cast members (because I defo think some of those drawings and some of the jokes are based on what the actors look like). 
> 
> And then there's the other, which I started formulating before I familiarised myself with any of the cast and official merch, and it's not necessarily _correct_ but I'm very fond of it and tbh it's also more diverse (I know tiny English villages typically _are_ very white, but if everyone in Piffling can be queer with no explanation then I see no need for them all to be white and homogenous!); in my head Rudyard and Antigone are both tols, Antigone's posture is just _slightly_ better than Rudyard's. They also have very pale sallow skin, large noses (in Rudyard's case largely because it's good for turning up at people, in Antigone's because frankly I don't see enough female characters with big noses) and dark hair and eyes. Rudyard wears lots of scratchy sweaters that all have pockets (for sweets and Madeleine) sewn into them. Georgie is black, she has a healthy smattering of freckles, she wears a lot of t-shirts and tank tops under denim overalls and has awesome orange hair, no longer than shoulder length and shaved at one side, and she often has to blow curls of it out of her face. As for Eric, well, I thought 'who's the most attractive man I've ever seen?' and worked from there, so basically he's... a blonde Tan France. Slightly taller than Rudyard when he's all curled up like the anxious lil snap bracelet he is, but quite a bit shorter when that sad bean straightens his back out. And Madeleine is... well, a mouse. But she has some little half-moon specs that Rudyard made her out of a paperclip. Also Georgie's a huge lesbian, the Funn siblings and Eric are all bi but Rudyard is somewhere on the ace-spectrum, haven't totally decided yet!
> 
> You got your own headcanons? I'd love to hear em! I'd love to talk to more people about this podcast so if you feel like chatting you should absolutely hmu here or on tumblr (@dont-offend-the-bees), come be my friend!!!


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